


Legacy

by forspitessake



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Minor Violence, minor PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 08:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6321877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forspitessake/pseuds/forspitessake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'll do what I think is right," she said, "not what will save me." - Clio's not in the business of lying or running away, as she'll always tell you. She's just in the business of thievery, and that's what started this whole mess in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memory

The first memory Clio could ever remember, was asking her father where her mother was.

She had just come out of class, her last one of the day, and she had run out the door with an excited grin on her face, searching wildly for her favorite person in the whole entire space station: daddy. He was there, of course, like he was every day to escort her back to their living quarters, where he would drop her off and then get back to work.

"Daddy!" she squealed, lopsided dark brown pigtails bouncing as she ran to him. "Look!"

With a rare grin, her father knelt to bring himself to her level, and took a hold of the paper she had been waving in his face. "Well, well. What's this?" he asked.

"It's us, I drawed it all by myself," she told him proudly, pointing to the stick figure in pink with pigtails (which was very clearly her) and another in dark brown, sporting a black cape and- were those horns on his head? "See? You're Batman. Wells says he's the best superhero ever, even though he doesn't have any superpowers. Clarke thinks he's stupid then, but I think that makes him better, don't you? 'Cause he saves people without superpowers. I think having superpowers is cheating. Cheating's bad."

Her father chuckled. "Okay, then what's this over here?" he pointed to a gray blob with four legs over on her pink stick figure's other side.

Clio gasped with delight, clasping her hands under her chin. "That's Fang, he's our new pet," she said, and reached over to stroke the empty space beside her. "He's a gray wolf, we learned about them in class today. Did you know that wolfs have packs? It's like their family, which means we're a pack too, right?"

She must have been around five or so, since he could still easily pick her up and carry her, and she remembered him smiling so softly and genuinely that it hurt her now to think of. "Yeah, we're a pack too. What else did you learn today?" he inquired as he began the trek home, very aware that she could easily talk all day given the chance, and if he didn't move her himself, they'd never get back to their quarters in time.

"Oh! And Mrs. Mendez says that the puppies are born blind and deaf. Isn't that scary?" she asked him seriously, mouth opening in awe as she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'd never want to be deaf. I think I'd rather be blind, cause if I was deaf I'd never hear you when you sing me to sleep again."

He had cringed, glancing around to see who else had heard as he corrected her, "I _hum_ , I don't sing."

This caused Clio to giggle and snort. "Okay, daddy," she told him in a tone that clearly said she was only indulging him.

"Are you being smart with me, Clio?" her father asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

She only blinked innocently. "But, daddy, you always said I was the smartest little peanut?"

He looked down at her like he'd never seen her before but couldn't have been prouder anyway. "Alright, kiddo, point to you."

She grinned triumphantly before falling miraculous silent for only a few minutes, clearly considering what she was about to say before she said it. He nudged her gently in his arms as he keyed in the access code to their rooms. "Hey, what's up, peanut?" he asked, setting her down as soon as they were inside.

She twisted her body back and forth, making her dress twirl around her while her gaze fixed to the ceiling. "Daddy," she mused lightly, "Where's mommy?" He very clearly started before stilling, and she watched quietly as his thoughts whirled in his head like a hurricane. She'd never seen him look so alarmed, and she almost regretted asking.

He cleared his throat before she could retract her question and feigned lightness in his movement to the desk she usually did homework on, a lightness he very clearly did not genuinely feel. "Uh, why- why do you ask?"

Shrugging her school bag off her shoulder and joining him she haltingly began, "Wells says his momma always sings him songs when he doesn't feel good, and his dad teachers... _teaches_ him chess. Clarke says her mommy kisses her ouchies and her daddy tells her all about sports and stuff. You do all of it. And you teach me how to punch," she added in amazement. He couldn't help but smile. "So, I kinda just wondered."

Her father sighed heavily, taking her bag and pulling out the folder that held her assignments. "Your mother, Cliona, loved you very much, but she had to go."

"Where? Why?"

He started and stopped, attempting to word his explanation as simply as possible. He didn't want to scare her, but he also didn't think it would do any good to hide the complete truth from her. "She disobeyed the rules, so she was... Banished."

Clio nodded understandingly, but slowly, slipping into the chair before the desk and grabbed her pencil. "Do you think we'll ever see her again?"

"No," he said softly though immediately to prevent any doubt or argument. "Not anytime soon, at least."

His statement caused her to frown, and she posed one more question. "Did you love her?"

Eyes closing with what she now realized was shame, but had previously misunderstood as grief, he said, "Your mother was a very pretty woman."

And that was all he ever had to say about her mother. Clio would try to ask again numerous times over the following years but his answer was always the same: she was very pretty. He never told her what her name was, what rules she disobeyed, or anything about what she was like. After a while, she stopped asking, and it slowly ceased to matter anyway. Cliona's father was her hero, and he was all she ever needed.

At the age of fourteen, Clio found herself standing before him with her wrists trapped behind her back in handcuffs, and recalled that memory with rapidly increasing confusion; and she realized that it really did matter after all.

"What the _fuck_ do you mean you're not my real dad?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Ah, so I've actually posted this on Fanfiction.net first, like a while ago, but then I decided that maybe it would get more traffic on AO3. It has previously been posted under LostGalRoe, until I changed my username to forspitessake, to match this one. I plan on hauling over all my stories to here, but they will also remain on Fanfiction.net, so I'll be updating them on both sites. Just fyi ^.^


	2. Worry

When Cliona was two months shy of nine years old, she met a boy named Jonathan.

It was late, past her curfew for sure, but her father hadn't come home yet and she had become concerned. So, like any other self-assured eight year old who thought she could take on the world and win, she'd gone to search for him and had quite predictably gotten herself lost. Even if she did live on the Ark her entire life thus far, she'd always had someone with her when she left her room; be it her father, or Wells, or Clarke, or Nathan, or even her grandmother on the rare occasion her father allowed it. She never needed to know where she was going. They knew for her. She simply followed, and kept up a steady stream of chatter about everything that meant absolutely nothing.

Somehow, someway, she ended up wandering all the way from the Alpha Station to the Factory Station, near the airlocks. It was strangely empty within the Station's halls, she noticed, comparing it to the after-shift hubbub that usually went on in her own station before everyone settled down for bed. Clio wondered why it was so quiet: did the Factory Station just not have this tradition? It seemed unusual, since Argo and Mecha Stations were like hers too.

Feeling the unfamiliar trickles of unease drip down her spine and clog her throat, Clio paused. Around the corner, she could hear her father, and while she wished very desperately that she could run to him, she could also hear the voice of someone else she didn't recognize, and it was enough to make her think twice.

"Please, my son- you don't understand!" the man was pleading. Clio very silently crept closer to where the hall turned to the right, but was careful to remain out of sight.

"Mr. Murphy, you committed a crime, and you know the punishment." Chancellor Jaha, she identified. She'd heard him enough when playing chess against Wells and he'd sit beside them both, offering tips.

"My son is sick, he needs medicine!"

"Which you must pay for, not steal. Close the door." That was her father, his normal soothing, soft timbre sounding hard.

"Wait-" an unmistakable final _whoosh_ , and 'Mr. Murphy' was cut off. Clio knew exactly what was happening, but she never knew her father was involved.

"Open the airlock." he ordered. There was the click of a button, and then... Nothing. For a whole minute, Clio counted, and no one said a word, shuffled their feet, or sighed, or coughed. Just absolute silence. And then Chancellor Jaha heaved a deep breath.

"Marcus, I do believe you might want to escort your daughter back to your quarters."

She jumped, and cringed, wondering how he knew she was there, while her father stuttered with shock. "Cliona?"

Head bowed, she turned the corner very slowly, knowing she was in some deep trouble for wandering around without a chaperone, and then interrupting a Floating. "Daddy, I'm sorry. It's just- you weren't home yet, and usually you are before I go to bed, and even if you aren't you come by to check on me and tuck me in before you have to leave again, and... I just got worried." She finished lamely, feeling about five pairs of eyes on her at once. Looking up, she sought out only her father's warm brown irises. Would he be mad at her? Disappointed?

The only thing he did was sigh (he seemed to be doing that a lot lately, whenever she asked a lot of questions), and turn to Jaha. "Excuse us, Chancellor." The Chancellor excused him with an understanding, sympathetic nod, and then he was walking towards her with his hand outstretched, inviting her to take it. She did so without qualm.

"Who was that man?" she asked quietly, when they left behind the Chancellor and his guards. "Is his son really sick? Shouldn't we do something? I want to help." Her father was shaking, holding tightly on to her hand and it was beginning to hurt. "Daddy? Are you okay?"

He made a strange sort of gasping sound, stopped, crouched, and yanked her around to face him. "Clio, how much did you see?" She opened her mouth but nothing came out; he was frightening her, she didn't mean to make him angry when she went to look for him, she was just worried. His grip around her upper arms contracted even further. "Cliona, _how much_?"

"Nothing!" she sniffled. "I didn't see anything! I'm sorry I made you mad, I didn't mean to!"

And then his grip was gone and she was enveloped in his arms, her face to his chest. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm not mad. You only... Scared me. I'm sorry." Scared? _Her_ daddy? Impossible, her daddy wasn't scared of anything, not even the monsters under her bed.

"Was Mr. Murphy... banished?" she asked suddenly with a surprising amount of perception, and used the term he himself had used when she was younger. "Like mom?"

He started, gently pushing her away to meet her gaze. She was steady, the only tears leftover from when he'd unintentionally treated her roughly in his panic, and he thought she deserved to know. "Yes."

She bit her lip, and nodded. "And he said he had a son. Do you know him? He's sick, we have to help."

He tried to chuckle but it caught in his throat. "His name is Jonathan." He watched her posture straighten and her expression brighten, no doubt having recognized the name and connected it to a boy she shared a class with. "But I don't think he or his mother would be too happy to see us helping. They're grieving, Clio, do you understand?"

"I understand."

But she wasn't going to listen. From the day she was born he'd always taught her to do the right thing, regardless of the consequences. He may not have taught her consciously, but she'd watched him as she grew up. She learned from his examples.

The next day, she couldn't find Jonathan in class. Rather than finding it discouraging, she approached her history teacher, Mr. Howard, and rather sweetly requested directions to the quarters he and his mother still shared, so that she could give him his homework, of course. None the wiser, Mr. Howard acquiesced, and she told Clark and Wells, whom she was supposed to walk home with that day, that she was given a very important errand from their teacher. She'd catch up to them later.

None of it was a lie: Clio never lied, never saw the point. It was just her own personal code of ethics, the standard which she held herself too. Her father didn't lie either, and he was her idol. She wanted to be just like him when she grew up: honorable, brave, and just.

The directions her teacher had written on a slip of paper and given her were simple enough to follow, and she found the Murphy's quarters easily. For a moment, she could only grin with pride at herself for doing this all on her own. Maybe now she wouldn't have to follow anyone anymore. She could do it herself.

Amping up her smile to its brightest, she knocked on the metal door. A moment passed, and then it was sliding open, a pale woman looking a little worse for wear now standing in front of her. She stared down at her with disgust, and Clio's smile dimmed.

"Hi, Mrs. Murphy!" she greeted, like nothing was even wrong, like she wasn't currently being glared at like she was a piece of trash on the bottom of her shoe. "I came to give, um, Jonathan his homework for today."

Mrs. Murphy said absolutely nothing, continuing her leering while Clio fought the urge to twitch and shift her feet uncomfortably. A fight she promptly lost when Mrs. Murphy leaned down and stuck her face in Clio's personal space. "He's sick," she spat. "I'd hate for Kane's spawn to catch it too."

Clio blinked, rather unsurprised but still hurt by her reaction. She'd gotten this kind of treatment before, and she'd long since grown used to it. "Oh, that's okay ma'am. I don't get sick. Well, not very easily at least."

Mrs. Murphy sneered and rolled her eyes, moving out of the doorway with a muttered, "Lucky you. He's in his room. First doorway on the right," as she went to kitchen area, grabbing a dark bottle and bringing it to her lips. Clio averted her gaze, and rushed to the room Mrs. Murphy indicated before the grieving woman could change her mind.

Jonathan's room was small, much smaller than hers, a few trinkets and toys scattered here and there. Clio caught sight of some kind of plastic dinosaur before the lump on his bed coughed and shifted.

"Hi, Jonathan!" The lump groaned, and she cringed, lowering her voice to a loud whisper as she introduced herself. "Sorry. I'm Clio. We have history together? I just came by to drop off the homework."

"Go away, I'm dying."

A pause. This was not what Clio was expecting.

"Uh...?"

"Didn't you hear me? I said, go away."

She frowned, losing patience with the gentle approach. "I heard you. I'm just not gonna listen."

A mop of brown hair and bleary, reddened blue eyes popped up and peered at her withe equal amounts of interest and frustration. "You're Clio Kane." he stated simply, voice rough and cracking with phlegm. "Your dad..."

Clio nodded solemnly, knowing where he was going with the statement. "Yeah." she answered softly. "I know. I... Saw it. Or, heard it actually. I'm sorry."

Those pools of deep blues widened before he quickly looked away from her and sat up, erupting into a fit of coughs. Acting without thinking, Clio dropped her bag and the folder of homework near the entrance of his room, and darted to his side, grabbing the glass of water on the table by his bed.

"Here," she told him and handed him the water. His hands shook slightly, weakened by sickness, so she put her palms over them to help guide the glass to his mouth and make sure he didn't spill it all over himself. After a few sips, he pulled it away with a gasp, trying to catch his breath again.

"Thanks."

Clio shrugged, taking note how he still wouldn't look at her now that he knew who she was as she set the water down back where she found it. "No problem. Um, so the homework. It's pretty easy. We're still going over the pilgrims, for like, the third day in a row. I mean, don't get me wrong, they're interesting, I guess, but Mr. Howard keeps going over the same thing he did the day before and it's like we're not getting anywhere, well you know how he is. Anyway, it's really just a reading assignment, and then answering four or five questions at the end of the chapter, but I looked at them earlier and it seems like the answers will end up being pretty long-"

"You talk a lot."

Clio broke off with a grunt, though unable to help the grin creeping onto her face, because she'd finally gotten him to look at her again. Even if he was apparently overwhelmed and becoming a little green around the gills. Her eyes narrowed.

"Are you gonna barf?"

" _No_."

He did. Clio smoothed his hair back and rubbed the narrow space between his shoulder blades throughout his heaving and hacking. Jonathan was incredibly sick, she knew that now, and it caused her some anxiety. His father had stolen medicine for him, didn't he? That's why he'd been banished- _floated_ , she heard the rumors all day. So, why wasn't it working?

"Jonathan," she started cautiously after he had calmed somewhat and began flipping through the folder she brought. "Do you... Do you still have the medicine your father st- um got for you?" His eyes flashed with warning, but he nodded. "Have you been taking it?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"A week."

That wasn't right at all, he should have been getting better by now. Flu medication only took a couple days to kick in, Dr. Griffin had told her that years ago, the first and last time she'd gotten a cold. Was the medication no good? "Where is it?"

He gave her a confused glance, but pointed to his dresser. "Over there. Why?"

Clio didn't answer as she rose from her spot at the foot of his bed, picking up the white plastic bottle when she reached the dresser. She instantly identified it as the allergy medication people over on the Argo Station usually took when some of the plants began to bloom. Her grandmother had a bottle just like it in her medicine cabinet.

It suddenly made sense; he wasn't getting better because it was the _wrong kind_ of medicine. The only thing the allergy meds would do would make him sleepy, but it wouldn't address the infection growing in his lungs. Her eyes clenched shut as she gripped the bottle tight. His father had died for nothing.

She had to make it right. She swore she would.

That night was the first night Clio had ever stolen something. She took the allergy pills with her when she left his quarters over an hour later, once they'd finished doing their homework together. He'd knocked out almost as soon as she closed the textbook, so he never saw her pocket it.

Her father never noticed anything when he tucked her in at bedtime. He never heard her slip out hours later, around one in the morning. No one saw her making her way to Ark Medical and put the white plastic bottle of allergy pills back where they were supposed to be and take a similar looking bottle meant for Jonathan's illness. Because no one paid attention to a little slip of a girl barely nine years old.

The following day, Clio paid Jonathan a visit just as she did before. He'd gotten worse, it seemed, a fever ravaging his body and Clio's compassion for the boy only slightly older than herself skyrocketed. "Jonathan, you need to sit up. Please," she pleaded, unscrewing the cap on the bottle of new medication she brought with her.

Jonathan whined and turned over to look at her and then the pills in her palm. "What's the point?" he asked despondently, verging on tears. "They don't even work."

Frustrated, she flicked his ear. "These aren't the same pills," she admitted.

This caught his attention. "What? What about the other ones? What did you _do_?"

"Returned them and got these. Now take them, Jonathan, before you get any sicker."

Jonathan did, and asked no more questions, which surprised her. However, before she left later on, he called out to her. "Clio?"

Pushing her hair behind her ear, she slung her bag on her shoulder and glanced at him, inwardly smiling at how awkward he sounded saying her given name. "Yeah?"

"No one calls me Jonathan, you know. Not even my mom or da-... My mom."

"What do I call you then?" she queried. He shrugged. "Murphy? That sounds impersonal though. Not very friendly."

"Who says we're friends?" he snarked. Clio only laughed.

"Says me. What about Johnny?"

He shook his head. His mom called him Johnny, but he didn't think he liked that much anymore. "John." he said. "Just John."

She nodded. "Well, then. See ya tomorrow, John."

Every day, she came by, and witnessed him steadily become healthier, until he was ready to attend class once more. They never spoke to each other again, and she didn't know why, didn't try to change it, but she still considered him her friend.

That self-assigned mission may have been her first, but it certainly wasn't her last. She never stole for herself, that was her only rule, and she always made sure she remained anonymous to those she stole for. On the day that marked five years of a successful career as the Ark's very own Robin Hood, Clio was caught, arrested, and brought before her father in the Council Room.

Fourteen years old, and she was a career criminal. She had to admit, it was kind of impressive. Her father and the rest of the Council obviously didn't think so, since they sent her to the Skybox.

Where she would remain until the day she turned eighteen.


	3. Family

Eight months after turning eleven, Clio quite literally ran into a smooth talking, risk taking, near reckless boy who called himself Finn.

She'd just lifted another vial of meds from Ark Medical, meant for the Blake family (she knew someone in their quarters was sick, and it wasn't Bellamy or his mother, or his father seeing as how the man had been floated years before) and was running from a very close call with some of the guards when she glanced behind her and forward again. Within that one second, someone had stepped out of a doorway, and she'd run smack into them.

They collided and she bounced when she fell to the ground, already scrambling to get up again before she even completely landed.

"Whoa, sorry! You okay there?"

Clio groaned inwardly. Great, he wanted to talk. She didn't have time for this. "Yeah, I'm fine, thanks," she said, quickly attempting to dash around him, but stilled when she heard the footfalls of the officers tailing her. There wasn't time to get away clean. No choice, she would have to hide and wait it out.

Before she could even think about where to hide, the stranger who had caused her to waste precious escape time grabbed her by the arm and threw her into the room he'd just come out of. Just in time too, because those pesky guards rounded the corner, and he managed to look just the right amount of panicked as he told them, "He went that way," to fool them.

"So, cupcake, wanna tell me why those guys are chasing after you like you're some kind of... I dunno, _criminal_?" he drawled once they were out of sight. Clio grimaced from behind him.

"Uh, depends. Will you go after them and turn me in? Keep in mind, I am still not confirming nor denying anything."

He turned, and Clio was struck by how much she saw of herself in him. Same dark colored eyes, same face shape and straight nose- even if hers was a bit softer, and same lips. It was a little scary, if she were being honest with herself. And Clio was always honest.

He seemed to be just as taken off guard as she, but still managed to answer. "Please, I'm an accomplice now. Both of us would be screwed if you got caught."

Swallowing, Clio nodded with a sigh of relief. "Good. That's- that's good."

Quiet.

Then, "Sorry, but who are you?"

"Finn," he answered. "Finn Collins. God, it's like looking into a mirror. You know, if I were a girl. Creepy."

Clio snorted. "Tell me about it."

"Who are you?"

"Clio Kane," she returned distractedly, but she didn't miss the way he froze and regarded her with what she interpreted as caution. Her eyes rolled almost automatically. This happened every time- every god damn time she introduced herself, and she was tired of it. "Yeah, I'm _that_ Clio. Daughter of the oh so prestigious Marcus Kane. Nice to meet 'cha, howdy doo, whatever."

It was Finn's turn to snort. "Wow. Just surprised is all. Didn't think a Kane kid would end up running from the law. Kind of ironic, if you think about it."

"Well, stop thinking about it, because I was never here, alright?" she demanded, pushing past him and going down the opposite direction of the guards. She didn't make it far before she stopped. "Stop following me!"

"I can't," Finn claimed innocently, palms up in a surrendering motion, "I harbored a fugitive-"

" _For all of ten seconds_!"

"-I'm involved now, tiny offender."

Clio stomped her foot and crossed her arms irritably. "First of all, I am not tiny! Second of all, you're not an accomplice, or an accessory, or- or involved in any way whatsoever. You know why? 'Cause nothing happened!"

Finn grinned. "It kind of did."

"Oh, for shit's sake," she grumbled, making Finn wince.

"Yikes, what are you, nine? I don't think you should be using that kind of language."

Clio seriously considered murder.

"I'm eleven," she corrected instead, stalking off while muttering "so annoying" under her breath. This time when he followed, she ignored him, right up until the point they reached the Factory Station, where she slowed her gait and slipped into a completely different demeanor. Her movements became smoother, footsteps fell softer, expression hardened and alert. Finally, she came to a stop right before they entered an area labeled Section No. B-17.

"So, what's the plan, tiny offender?"

Without looking at him, Clio shifted the strap of the bag securely pulled over her head and across her chest. "The plan, is for you to stay here while I make my drop. Then we get out of here as fast as we can."

"No way, I'm coming with you."

"No," she snapped, fixing a glare on him sharply. "You're slow, and walk like you're a hundred pounds heavier than you are. You'll get us caught, easy."

"Oh, come on-"

"This isn't an argument, _cupcake_. You stay."

Finn sighed. "Are you sure you can do this?"

Clio took a step back from him, her glare turning to a confused scrunch of the face, then a sly grin. "Oh my God, are you worried about me?"

"Accomplice," he reminded, pointing to himself. "You get caught, I get caught."

"Well," she snorted again. "Relax, Collins. I've been doing this for like, two and a half years now. We'll make it out fine, provided _you_ don't blow it."

And then she was gone before he could utter another word. Finn waited there anxiously for a minute.

Two minutes.

Three.

Then, a blur raced by him, snatching his arm with a squeak of "Time to go!"

They managed to make it somewhere safe and far away from the Factory Station, though it took quite a bit of running to get there. He knew she could run faster than he could, but she slowed herself just enough to let him keep up. She never left him behind, even when she easily could have, and somehow, Finn knew she didn't even think about doing so.

Silence reigned between them as they struggled to catch their breath, and Finn noticed her bag was now empty. "So, thief, huh?" he wheezed.

"Stunning observation, Collins."

"For over two years, you said? So, you started at around, what? Eight, nine? Jeeze, you really are a tiny offender."

"Great, you can do simple math too, congratulations."

Finn laughed, completely un-bothered by her attitude. They were quiet again until he grunted, "Huh."

Clio groaned. "What now?"

"No, it's just weird. You said you started stealing around two years ago. And whatever you stole you obviously didn't get paid for, seeing as how you don't have anything in your bag at all. The only thief around here who steals things without asking for anything in return..."

"Ah, hell."

"Is the Invisible Bandit."

"...Oh, _God_ , do people really call me that? That's terrible."

"Hey! I came up with it! That's awesome though, you're like my hero."

"Collins, no, you don't understand. You have to change it. Change it right now. Don't let them call me that anymore, that is the worst thing I have ever heard."

"Wow, this is like fate, tiny offender. Destiny, you know?" He said, completely ignoring her plea. Clio groaned.

Over the course of the next three years, Finn pestered her into an easy alliance, though their relationship remained very much the same. They bickered and fought like siblings, and defended each other the same sort of way when it came to it. Clio Kane and Finn Collins were very much partners in crime, especially since he was the only one who knew who she really was.

She hoped, as she was escorted to her cell, that he wouldn't get caught like she had, and she wished she could have at least said goodbye to him and Wells and Clarke.

"Wait, isolation?" she asked when her father stopped before a single occupant cell and the officers on either side of her pushed her into it. "For _four years_?"

Oh, was her father pissed. She could see it clear as day in his stormy expression, and he was usually so good at masking his emotions in public. "You're lucky you're under eighteen, Clio, and not _floated_ ," he hissed at her. Clio flinched, panic rising within her quickly, even though she knew what the risks were before she got involved in the kind of lifestyle she had.

But isolation. She, Clio 'talk-a-hundred-miles-an-hour' Kane, would go crazy within a week.

"God, Cliona, how did this even happen?" her father was saying. He seemed to age twenty years right before her, with his shoulders slumped from exhaustion and eyes wrinkled around the edges with stress. Clio suddenly wanted to cry.

"I don't- I just wanted to the right thing," she started, already starting to hiccup. "And I- I think I still was. I stole for kids who'd go hungry at night, who were so sick they probably wouldn't have made it another day and couldn't afford medicine. And it was fine, and then Collins gave me that _stupid_ nickname, and it got so out of control-"

"Wait," he cut her off sharply. "Collins? _Finn_ Collins? You know Finn Collins?"

Clio wanted to cut out her own tongue to stop herself from talking. Damn it, she was better than this, she was adept at withholding information, but the panic and anxiety was making her unable to just stop and _think_. "Yeah, I know Finn Collins, dad. He's my best friend."

Her father stared at her for a very long moment, and Clio had no idea what that meant, because in that moment she was completely unable to read him. Then, he stepped inside with her and gave the guards still outside a glance and a nod. The door shut.

"Clio, there's something you should know."

Oh God, like that wasn't terrifying, what did that even _mean_?

"It's about your parents. I should have told you a long time ago, but I didn't know... I didn't know if you could handle it." he said, rubbing his forehead and avoiding her probing gaze.

"H-handle what? Dad, you're seriously freaking me out."

He exhaled in a rush, plopping himself on the bed that would now be hers for the next four years. "Clio, I'm not your real dad." Oh, she knew- fucking _knew_ , instantly, why her friendship with Finn came to such a shock to him.

Clio had the funny passing thought that Finn would call it destiny.

And right then, watching listening as her not-father explain her oh so tragic origin story, she could only think, ' _destiny has a real fucked up sense of humor_ '.


	4. Earth

Solitary was as great as Clio thought it would be, which was not at all. She was bored near constantly through the three years she'd been imprisoned, except for the times her father brought in books for her to read every week when he visited. The books were long and mostly school texts, so at least her education wasn't suffering any.

She never spoke to him during these visits, or to her grandmother whom was also permitted to see her. They did enough of the talking for her, anyway. In the beginning, her self-imposed vow of silence saddened them, and then later frustrated Marcus to the point where he'd rage at her in hopes of eliciting a response. But it only made Clio press her lips together tighter in spite, and rage right back by throwing those _stupid_ books at him; and she never said a word through it all.

It was decided: Clio hated him. Hated him for lying to her for her entire life, for betraying her to the council when he found out about her little hobby, for punishing her while she was _helping_ others. Especially for expecting her to be alright with it all afterwards. Every time he would step into her cell with a warm smile like nothing was wrong, like he hadn't proved he was everything opposite of what Clio thought he was growing up, made her glow with a vicious anger she didn't know she was capable of.

And then one day, she didn't know which, Clio decided she didn't care. When he walked into her room during the 82nd week of her incarceration she ignored him completely. Even as he yelled himself hoarse, Clio only stared impassively. Part of her wanted to laugh, watching as his veins pulsed and bulged in his neck and forehead, and his face went an almost startlingly shade of putrid red. The other part of her just felt numb, and it grew more dominant as time passed.

Today marked her 156th week, and not for the first time, Clio wanted to bash her head into her cell wall until she knocked herself unconscious, just to have something to do. The books Marcus had left last were read and piled back near her bed, where he had set them down when she refused to take them; she didn't want him to think for certain that she was really reading them. He should be coming sometime that day to take them and leave new ones in their place, but in the meantime there was simply nothing else to do but pace her cell or sing along to the hum of the engines, and she'd already done her daily exercise routines that kept her limber.

Laying back on the floor, she stared up at the ceiling without really seeing it and thought about Finn. Marcus had told her of his arrest just a little over two years after her own, an arrest that had not been for being an accomplice to her crimes, but one entirely his own, her father informed her. Clio had suspected he wanted her to be grateful he hadn't ratted out her best friend- her brother like he had done to her. Like he had done her a fucking favor.

The thought was a common one, without any real venom behind it anymore. She was too tired for it, for much of anything really. She wasn't too tired however, to wonder where Marcus was today. He'd usually be there by now, sighing with disappointment at seeing her sprawled out on the ground instead of the bed like always. The ground was more comfortable than that pathetic excuse of a bed, in Clio's most humble opinion.

The door to her cell swished open at that moment, and she wanted to sneer and mock him for his tardiness. Marcus always prided himself at being on time.

"Cliona, get up, now."

Her mouth twisted down into a frown; well, that wasn't how it was supposed to go at all. He wasn't supposed to sound all shaky and scared, like the day she had accidentally witnessed Mr. Murphy's Floating. Clio sat up quickly, blank faced as always. Marcus looked pale, and like he wanted to scoop her up in his arms like she was a little girl again. _His_ little girl.

"Clio, listen, something's happening, and I need you to be prepared for it. _You_ need to be prepared for it."

Heartbeat stuttering nervously once, she got to her feet and stood straight before him, eyeing him with determined intensity. Still no words passed her lips, however. Beyond him and the guards, she could hear a commotion outside: noises of people talking, doors opening, guards shouting orders. Whatever he was preparing her for he was doing it at the last minute. How typical of him.

"You're going to Earth, Clio, all of you," he said, and alarm shot through her cold body. Earth? That was insane, Earth was still off limits for another hundred years due to the levels of radiation on the surface. Marcus stepped close to her and grabbed her by her biceps. "I'm sorry, it was the only choice we had, and there's a chance you'll survive longer down there than up here."

The _only choice_? Clio hated that phrase, hated it, and hated him too all over again. He was sending her to Earth to die. This was a mass execution, plain and simple. She was only seventeen, she had almost an entire year left, how could he?

Her thoughts must have displayed a little too clearly on her face, because his screwed up like he was in physical pain. "Clio, please, it's so you can live. It's so we all can. Once Earth is considered habitable, we'll all come: the entire Ark."

He was crazy, he'd lost his damn mind to space madness or something. The entire council must have. How could they have decided this? How could they reasonably suspect the ground would be safe enough to send kids down?

Clio bit her tongue. Because they were criminals to them; convicts, troublemakers, leeches of food and water and oxygen. Not kids.

Marcus pulled her close and hugged her tight, like he didn't want to let her go, while Clio's insides burned with betrayal. "Listen to me Clio, you can't do the same things down there as you did up here: you can't put yourself on the line for the sake of everyone else. It's going to be different on the ground, Clio. Those kids are not going to want to play by anyone's rules, and once they find out you're down there with them, they're not going to be happy about it."

Her brain whirled as she watched the two guards at her door walk in, one of them carrying a metal box. "Sir?"

Marcus nodded, pulling away from her to press a fatherly kiss to her forehead. Then he turned, the guard holding the now open box handed him a metal cuff, and he took it.

"This," he said, taking her wrist, "will let us know if you're alive and well when you make it onto the surface; don't _ever_ take it off." The cuff snapped closed around her arm, and she jerked away with a hiss of pain when what felt like tiny thin rods pierced her skin. He held onto her firmly, and she gripped him back reflexively. "Cliona, do you understand? You must protect yourself, do not let your compassion overrule your rationality; you must survive."

His eyes bore into hers and she wished she wasn't so angry with him, that she could hug him without feeling like his touch burned her to the core and made her itch to strangle him. She wished he hadn't chosen the council over her, and that he hadn't just told her to survive at any cost, even if it meant another suffered.

Setting her jaw, she let her hands drop.

"I'll do what I think is right," she said, "not what will save me."

Her voice came out quietly, wobbly, and sounded a little rough, as if she had a sore throat, and already she could feel the irritation in her larynx, but it served its purpose. Briefly, his eyes widened, and she lifted her chin defiantly, feeling satisfied: if those were the last words she ever said to him, so be it.

He sighed, his grip tightening on her momentarily before he too let them fall to his sides. "Get her into the dropship before everyone else," he told the guards, still looking at her, "and don't let anyone see her."

Clio let herself be handcuffed and led away from her cell, and from the man she once called father without a backwards glance, feeling emptier and emptier with each step she took.

The dropship was a massive thing, three levels high and the guards escorted her to the topmost level. She was forcibly sat in a chair in the darkest corner, and the handcuffs were traded for secured seat straps. Clio didn't resist or argue, only allowed them to manhandle her with the little bit of dignity she had left. The other kids came soon after, and she was horrified to discover that the youngest one couldn't have been over nine years old. She couldn't imagine what had gotten him into the Sky Box, but it didn't seem fair regardless. His life hadn't even started yet, and already he was doomed.

As the ship launched, the initial fearful chatter turned into anxiety ridden silence, and some of them looked at her oddly, since she was far older than the rest of them. Clio figured she was among the youngest delinquents, ones that hadn't grown up with her and would be less likely to recognize her. She had no doubt this was what Marcus wanted, and she could only wonder why.

Twenty minutes passed before the drop ship shuddered violently and the lights flickered ominously. Atmosphere, Clio thought, they'd hit the atmosphere. Only a few minutes left until landing. The television screens switched on to a speech being made by none other than Chancellor Jaha himself. She curled her lip in distaste; Jaha always rubbed her the wrong way, even before she had been locked up.

Before his speech could be finished however, the parachutes deployed, and everything went dreadfully, terrifyingly wrong. It was more than just turbulence, she knew, and the children around her yelled and cried when the ship jerked to side and wires sparked and pieces of the ship began to fall apart around them. The retrorockets still hadn't fired, and Clio knew they were going too fast.

She clung to the arms of her seat, and clenched her eyes shut; she couldn't die here, not when she'd finally made it off the Ark and had a chance to really live on Earth, even if she did doubt its chances of survivability. Dying now wasn't allowed to happen, not when she had something to look forward to.

And then the retrorockets _did_ fire, and there was a lurch as they slowed mere seconds before landing, which shook them all again, and then...

There was silence.

The engines powered down and around her she could only hear the whimpers and heavy breathing of the others, but the engines-... The engines were dead, and her ears rung with loss. The lights stabilized and for a moment no one spoke, amazed that they were still alive.

"Well," one of them said. Clio wasn't sure who, but it sounded like a girl. "What now?"

The sound of the belts across their chests clicking open answered her, which had everyone scrambling out of their seats immediately. Clio remained where she was, watching as they all climbed down the ladder to the lower floor, nearly stepping on each other, and listened to the rest of the ship occupants argue and shout. Before long, she could hear the loading door open and she waited for the radiation to kill her, or affect her in some way.

When it didn't happen, and when the cabin of the ship finally fell absolutely quiet, she moved. Slowly, she unhooked her nails from her seat and undid her buckle, and when she stood, she had to take a minute to regain the feeling in her legs. Still, they shook during her journey down the ladders, and she stopped completely when she was finally facing the outside world.

She had to admit she was scared. A little excited, granted, yet apprehensive all the same. But what had she to lose when an entirely new world was in her grasp? She could be anything here, she could be _herself_. Like Marcus had said, there were no rules, there was no immediate government, no one to punish her for doing what she thought was right. And these people hadn't seen her since she was fourteen. She could be _free_.

The thought was enough to give her all the courage she needed, and with a small smile, she stepped out of the darkened ship, and out into the light.


End file.
